The Seduction of Phaeton Black (36 page)
Read The Seduction of Phaeton Black Online
Authors: Jillian Stone
Phaeton quickly assessed his situation. More sailors, rudely awakened, pockets lightened by grog and card play. His heart rate and blood flow elevated to the correct level of alarm. He feigned to his left and tilted sideways, avoiding the next slash of blade. A number of rousted sea dogs fell in behind the hovering thug with the menacing sword. Air buffeted his face from yet another swoosh of the cutlass.
He wiggled his nose and retreated. No time to lose.
Using a bit of potent lift, learned from a man full of such tricks, Phaeton flung himself into the air, banked off the ceiling and landed atop a sleeping sailor. Arms out to his sides for balance, Phaeton grabbed hold of a line overhead and pushed off the grunting body beneath his boots. He aimed straight for the seamen in pursuit, swinging across the barracks, head down, balls out, he struck the lead man and the rest of the crew toppled over like nine pins. Phaeton released the rope and landed near the main hatch. He grabbed his hat from a nearby hook and the loose cutlass sliding across floorboards.
Joe Grubb broadened a toothless grin. “Cut and run, Mr. Black.”
He flicked the brim of his bowler. “Pricks to the wind, Chief.”
Phaeton bolted into the cargo hold, removing belaying pins as he ran. A flurry of cargo net enveloped, then whisked him out of the hold and into the air. Several good swings of the blade loosed the knotted web of rope and he dropped onto the wooden deck. He did not look back until he was well across the gangplank.
Christ. The bloody lot of them were following on behind.
He made a mad dash along the narrow pier stacked with cargo and crowded with dockworkers. He vaulted over bales of cotton and dodged cart loads of whiskey. Sprinting over the footbridge, he turned away from the chaos of the docks and hoofed it into a covered alleyway.
Phaeton ducked into a dank passage off the lane and waited for his pursuers to pass by. Once the seamen were well ahead, he darted back into the lane and made his way toward the cab stand on Westferry Road. Trotting along behind a drayage cart he was steps away from the bustling thoroughfare, when one of the sea hounds gave a shout from behind.
Phaeton pivoted towards the surly bloke who came at him hoisting a belaying pin. He drew a pistol from his coat knowing full well the chamber held no bullets. The sailor lunged just as a fast moving carriage passed between them. The brief respite afforded him the opportunity to abandon all sense of propriety. He wrenched open the door of the passing vehicle and tossed himself inside.
From the floor of the carriage, amidst a flutter of pretty lace ruffles and petticoats, Phaeton perused shapely legs covered in pale stockings. “My word, things are looking up.”
BRAVA BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2012 Jillian Stone
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
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ISBN: 978-0-7582-7792-3
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